


The gray comes with you.

by Rinusagitora



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, F/M, Ghosts, Gothic, Horror, Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinusagitora/pseuds/Rinusagitora
Summary: Toushirou Hitsugaya hasn't led an easy life. High school is no easier, as Toushirou is being hunted by violent bullies.However, when a new student arrives, his entire world changes. Even with her secrets, and hardship, he comes to adore her. To love her to death.On hiatus
Relationships: Abarai Renji/Hinamori Momo/Hisagi Shuuhei/Kira Izuru, Hitsugaya Toushirou/Kurosaki Karin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Where the hounds hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was meant to be for a friend, but that was 3+ years ago (shrugs)

The screech of his alarm clock would open his funeral.

He groaned as he blindly ran a hand over his nightstand in search of his cell. As soon as he was upright, he felt the charge accumulated over his nine hour slumber slough off like water down the drain. It never ceased to amaze him how he stayed on his feet every morning when he was overcome by such a spell.

He opened his music app, played an upbeat pop album to hopefully wake him and cure the dread he woke with every morning with its contagious energy, and then bravely exited the confines of his bedroom.

His home was eerily empty. Momo began to leave earlier and earlier over the course of the last few weeks. She wasn’t home much, but when she was, she locked herself in her room until she left again in the early hours of the morning. His grandmother was a busy editor despite her age. That was alright, of course, but the house was made of early birds and it was surreal when not a thing stirred, like he didn’t belong.

He brushed his teeth, combed his air, quickly tired of his stupid music and tried to find something with more interesting sound, and he left home with a warm Hot Pocket in hand and a creepy podcast in his earbuds. His podcasts were like his friends, the only ones who spoke to him outside of what school required. And he didn’t mind it. Podcasts were only corny, they never made him limp.

The same couldn’t be said for his classmates.

Every morning, when the clock on the face of his school’s exterior appeared over the houses, he felt nauseous. His head turned side to side to scan for company.

The reason he lived most of his academic experience alone was his appearance. His hair was pale, his eyes were unearthly blue-green. The only thing that looked normal about him was his tan. Otherwise, he looked like a wraith. His classmates were unanimously suspicious of him. When he wasn’t ostracized, he wasn’t just picked on, he was often left injured.

He wondered if the omen was the misery it would cause his childhood, or something more sinister he was blind to.

“Hey, Freak-tsugaya!”

His concern was in the present.

He broke into a run for the school entrance. Bazzard and Cang Du, though meatheads, were expert predators. And he was prey, he had little option aside from running.

He rushed through the open front doors and ran head-first into Cang Du’s elbow. He heard the collision, he dropped like a brick to the floor, and stars exploded in his vision as his head landed on the hard tile. 

“Don’t you know to answer when I’m trynna talk to you, freak?” Bazzard asked as he writhed. “Where’ve your manners gone? Do we needa teach you some?”

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Bazzard raised his fist. He rolled onto his hands and pushed himself up. Cang Du grabbed him by his neck. He was slammed into the shoe lockers four times. Pain did not capture how it felt: like he was beat against a curb corner instead of thin metal. He spat in Cang Du's eye and kicked him in the groin. Cang Du doubled over with a quiet grunt. When he turned to run, Bazzard grabbed him by his white hair and yanked him to the ground again. His face was stomped on. Blood flooded his mouth, he turned onto his side and spat out his front teeth and blood and mucus.

“What the hell are you sons of bitches doing!?”

Laughter followed in the wake of Bazzard and Cang Du. He cracked his eyes open to meet Rangiku’s grimace.

“Oh geez, they did quite a number on you,” Rangiku winced. She pulled him onto his feet and held him up by his waist. “Kotetsu-san is in today. Let’s get you patched up, kid. You poor bastard.”

He grasped Rangiku’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he told her.

“Me too,” Rangiku replied. “I think you lost some teeth.”

“They’re back there,” he said. “Those two are getting ballsier. I haven’t had any teeth knocked out before.” His tongue ran over the holes in his gums and the cut over his lip. He hoped he didn’t need stitches. He knew better than to hold his breath, though.

“Hitsugaya-kun, we should go to the police. They’re getting out of hand. I won’t be able to swoop in to save you someday, and that may be the day they end up maiming you. Or worse,” Rangiku warned him.

He would have frowned if his face didn’t ache so. He was already such a lonesome boy, Momo and his grandmother knew that. They had their own lives to grapple with and he knew his tribulations only put more stress on them. He couldn’t continue to tax them anymore. “Investigations are lengthy,” he lied, “I understand what you’re telling me, but I can’t do that to my family, Matsumoto.”

Rangiku frowned but said nothing more. He sat on a plastic chair upon entrance into the nurse’s office. The head nurse cursed as she turned around to greet them. He was passed a washrag to catch the blood that poured off his chin onto his top. His uniform was beyond salvaging by that time.

“Can I get a new shirt? I can’t go to class like this,” he asked. 

“You want a new shirt? Hitsugaya-kun, you should be going to the hospital. You need stitches!” Isane scoffed.

“I know you’re trained to handle minor injuries, Kotetsu. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. I just tripped.”

“And got cut that bad?” Isane retorted.

“Shit, I’m not exactly a tumbler.”

Isane’s eyes rolled. “Watch your language. I’ll wash your mouth out with chili peppers.”

“Now you’re only giving me incentive to act even more improper. Momo used to make the best stuffed chili peppers.” He missed his sister’s cooking…. “A-anyways, I would appreciate it if you stitched me up. I’ve got a quiz this morning I can’t miss.” 

“Alright, but I won’t like it.” Isane said. He watched as she prepped topical sanitation and sutures. Rangiku returned with a new shirt for him. He unbuttoned his soiled top and handed it to Rangiku in a bunch. He still oozed blood from the cut across his lips, so he chose to remain topless until he was sewn shut. At least his uniform slacks were a void for stains.

“I hope your sister’s doing well,” Isane said. “The last we met she was acting strangely. She was skittish, and she kept giving me different explanations for her black eye. Do you know anything, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t figure out why Isane tried to carry on a conversation when he couldn’t move his face, but he would just be thankful someone took notice of his sister’s behavior too.

Isane made quick work of his face. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional.

“Take an ibuprofen as prescribed on the bottle, clean the seams with isopropyl alcohol. See me again in about a month and a half so I can take those out. And don’t pick at them,” Isane instructed as he licked up the seam on the inside of his lip.

He thanked Isane and then he buttoned up his borrowed shirt. It was enormous on his tiny frame, but it was worn and comfortable so he supposed it didn’t matter.

“There’s an assembly this morning, Hitsugaya,” Rangiku told him as they left the nurse’s office. “Take a wild guess what it’s about.”

“Bullying again?”

“Bullseye,” she replied. The irony didn’t escape him. “You can crash in the faculty room until classes start.”

“I’m surprised the headmaster thinks it’ll do anything,” he snorted. “Who am I kidding? I’m totally unsurprised by bureaucracy’s naive belief that team spirit and making victims shake hands with their victimizers will fix everything. What a bunch of soft bastards.”

Rangiku smiled sympathetically. “My thoughts exactly. You poor thing.”

He sat on the couch in the staff lounge alone. Rangiku had to supervise the hallways, and that was fine by him. He only realized how exhausted he was when he sunk into the gaudy-patterned cushions. He was too tired to occupy his time with mobile games or homework or even his thoughts. He was sore, he felt like he decayed in that place, like his flesh melted off his bones and his juices seeped into the floor. High school was built to enable the strong and murder the weak. He couldn’t tell who he hated more: the entire establishment, or his feeble self.

Later he peeled himself from the couch and made it to class without any fuss from his schoolmates. He lamely stared at the zigzagged hairline of the girl in front of him until homeroom began. He hoped his lumps wouldn’t interfere with his notes….


	2. The common grounds.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new girl, and when Toushirou finds the courage to talk to her, he's in for a pleasant surprise.

“I’d like to start off by introducing our new student,” his homeroom teacher Nanao said. “Kurosaki, enter please.”

He was brought to full alertness with the chill that should’ve only been accompanied by a crisp, wintry gust of air, alas all was still as that girl entered.

She was smaller than their classmates, just barely bigger than himself, but she carried herself in a ram-rod back fashion that made her seem taller. Her silver eyes were like stars, sparkling against the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was pulled back and bangs framed her face in a fashion which strangely reminded Toushirou of raven wings. She scanned the room with a level of disinterest, half-lidded, unstained lips curved so-slightly downward. Despite her sour expression, she was pretty.

Gorgeous, even.

He shivered as her gaze came to him. His heart stilled from her eerie beauty and his cheeks burned in the cool room.

“I’m Karin Kurosaki,” Karin said. Her gaze pulled away from his. “I was emancipated from my father due to extraneous circumstances at home. I’m grateful this school has given me aid so that I can work and study,” she explained. “I hope we get along well.”

Karin’s tone sounded vaguely like a threat, her silver sight like a sword pressed against his jugular. He connected with that message. Stay away, don’t cause trouble.

He wished he had the same ability to have pulled the room to attention.

“Kurosaki, your seat is beside Basterbine. Basterbine, please raise your hand.”

Karin was ethereal, he decided as he watched her glide to her seat. And he hated how he couldn’t peel his eyes away from her.

Karin Kurosaki’s presence was stark and noticeable despite her reclusive habits. She pushed away the color, chilled the air, stifled noise like she submerged the entire room in water. The school was abuzz with this new beautiful, mystical girl, and often he overheard her compared to a fresh corpse.

She wasn’t popular, never even approached once which hadn’t put her off from what he saw. She merely sat in silence with her manga, scribbled in her notebook while she listened to lectures, and disappeared for some time during lunch. He hadn’t heard her voice since her first day.

He may never know what got him to work up the courage to sit in front of her one morning. As far as he was concerned, Karin didn’t care for company, what would’ve made him the exception? But he was fascinated by her. He was captivated by her grace and her presence and her beauty and their, albeit superficial, likeness. Karin was just magnetic like that, he guessed.

She didn’t acknowledge him, she merely turned the page of her manga, its cover strangely shielded with a sheet of cardstock, and picked at her muffin.

“What’re you reading?” he asked.

Her gaze flicked up to him, and then back to her manga. “Can I ask something of you first?” Karin replied. He hated when his questions were answered with another question, but he couldn’t refuse her then. “Why don’t you hang out with other students?”

He frowned. It was an odd question and he wondered what the purpose was.

“They…” he began, “I’m not well-liked here, you see. My appearance is off-putting. I think I look like a ghost to people,” he explained abashedly.

Karin’s lips spread. It looked something like a smile, but it hadn’t the warmth nor joy one would’ve expected. It was a sad, sympathetic smile, though not one of pity at least. A smile of understanding.

“I’m rereading Uzumaki,” Karin told him as she slipped the sheet of cardstock off her manga. “I don’t like people knowing what I read though, so I keep it covered.”

“Itou? Truthfully, I pegged you as a fan of western horror. King, Poe, Lovecraft, the likes.”

“I don’t really like Western horror. Lovecraft’s world-building is pretty cool, but outside of that, his writing is mediocre and he’s abrasively racist. I admire King’s atmosphere and climbing action, but it’s difficult to follow after a certain point, since his cast is oftentimes large, and it’s easy to lose focus when all his books seem to be well over three hundred pages. But I like Poe,” she said, closing her manga. “His stories are easy to follow and have a lot of the same, demented elements as Itou and Maruo. Poe also executed themes of madness way better than Lovecraft. But I like Itou and Maruo for their gory imagery. I’m kinda embarrassed admitting it, but I love guro. It takes a special kind of artistic talent to draw gore and body horror, even though they both have problems with same-face-syndrome and transmisogyny.”

Karin’s cheeks flushed as he stared. “S-sorry. I go off about stuff I’m into.”

“It’s fine,” he said. Toushirou thought it was pretty cool. He was never good at literary analysis, but Karin was like a professional critic. “I’m just surprised. Why don’t you ever talk in class when you have so much to say?”

“I go to school to get my piece of paper saying I know something so I can make a good living for myself in the future, not because it’s something I like. It’s easier going off about shit you’re into,” Karin explained.

She was down to earth. Reclusive, but down to earth.

He really admired that.

“... Kurosaki,” he said, hoarse and nervous, “would you… do you want to do something together after school?”

Karin’s expression slackened into unreadability. It made his hands sweat. “I can’t today,” she replied. “H-how about Sunday? I d-don’t work on Sunday.”

“That works. I’m free on Sundays.”

“What did you want to do?”

Toushirou responded with, “We could just hang around my place. My grandmother and sister tend to stay in their rooms. Or we could go out somewhere, if you’d like. I know this cinema downtown is showing Ichi The Killer. I know someone who can get us tickets.”

Karin smiled. A genuine smile that made him swoon. “Y-you like Ichi The Killer?”

“Yeah, the special effects are amazing. I thought you might like it since you said you like gore,” he said.

“Yeah. Ichi The Killer is one of favorite movies,” Karin said. She passed him her phone then. “Can you text me the address?”

He plucked her phone from her grasp and input his number. His heart pounded in his chest and the air felt wonderful against his warm skin. He had a girl’s number.  _ Her _ number. Toushirou was on cloud nine. “I’ll bring the tickets. I also suggest bringing your own snacks. I mean, I’ll pitch in if you want popcorn, but commissary is pricey there.”

“R-right, thanks,” she replied as he handed her phone back.

The bell interrupted their planning and he returned to his own seat. His cheeks itched to grin. Did they count as friends?

Rangiku would be ecstatic either way.

It was impossible for Toushirou to focus on the following lecture. He had a friend. A prospective friend, maybe, but his brain replayed their morning exchange over and over again despite how hard he tried to pay attention. He had a friend. He had a social life. He had to get those movie tickets. He had a friend, he had a social life, he had to get those movie tickets.

He tore out of his seat at lunch time. His face burned by the looks he received, but he had more important things to do than have felt bashful. How his stomach churned and heart pittered on his way to hunt down Rangiku….

“Matsumoto,” he whispered as he peeked into the faculty room. Rangiku looked up from her phone and smiled amiably.

“Hey, Hitsugaya. What brings you here?” Rangiku asked as he sat across from her.

“Do you know about the new transfer student, Karin Kurosaki?” Rangiku nodded. “I’m… going out with her Sunday. A-as friends. To see Ichi The Killer at The Horror Cineplex.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Matsumoto, c-could get us tickets? I’ll reimburse you, of course. I’d be so grateful,” he asked.

Rangiku’s lips pulled into an irreverent grin. “As friends? Why’d you need to specify that?”

Heat crept up his neck and his face and sweat pooled under his pits. “Because you tend to jump to conclusions. Can you please focus and answer my question?”

“Of course I’ll enable your not-date, Hitsugaya!” Rangiku giggled. “I gotta ask though: you and that new girl are so standoffish, how and when did you guys get to this not-date point?”

“That’s privileged information,” he said coolly. He didn’t want Rangiku to blab in the faculty office and there to be even more talk about Karin around school. Their school had serious issues keeping their noses out of people’s business, and he intimately knew how deeply it hurt to be whispered about.

“Looks like you’re not getting those tickets then.”

“Damn it, Matsumoto,” he growled as his blush returned anew. “Do I have to?”

Rangiku gave him one of those shit-eating grins that ticked off everyone but her. “It shouldn’t be such a big deal if it’s a not-date, Hitsugaya. Unless you do like her and it is a date and you just don’t want to tell your dearest, oldest friend.”

“I’m going to throttle you one of these days,” he snarled.

“Why?”

He clutched his chest as Rangiku squawked. Nanao entered, clipboard under her arm and brow cocked in a curious arch. Nanao wasn’t normally the sort who crept up behind people, but he supposed he was too embarrassed by Rangiku’s interrogation to have paid attention to the noise in the hallways.

“Ooh, Ise-chan! Hitsugaya and that new girl Kurosaki are going out on a date this Sunday!” Rangiku told Nanao.

Toushirou was certain he had turned some shade of violet. “Matsumoto, I told you, it’s not a date!” he snapped as Rangiku giggled.

“Relax, Hitsugaya-kun,” Nanao said, “it’s normal for boys your age to be interested in girls.”

“That’s not the point! Kurosaki and I are just acquaintances. We only started speaking this morning. I have little romantic interest in her,” he insisted, and he instantly felt sick as he felt Rangiku’s sneer burn against his temple.

“Only a little?” Rangiku teased.

He wondered how upset Karin would’ve been if he threw himself off the roof in mortification.

“Alright, Matsumoto, I think it’s time you let Hitsugaya go. You might give him an aneurysm at this rate,” Nanao scolded. He wasn’t fond of Nanao’s tone, as if he was a helpless child, but at least he had some support against Rangiku’s relentless teasing.

That put Rangiku in a bad light, but he was pretty sure his face actually baked.

“You’re going out on a date with Kurosaki, right?” Nanao asked him.

“It’s not a date, we’re just friends,” he insisted. “We’re going to the theater Sunday, hopefully.”

“Well that sounds like fun,” Nanao smiled. “I’m curious, though. Kurosaki is so introverted, and you as well Hitsugaya. How did you two start speaking in the first place?”

“Ooh, that’s privileged information, Ise-chan. But it’s okay I guess. He’s still not getting those tickets.” Rangiku chirped.

He grit his teeth. He really needed those motherfucking tickets. “I just approached her this morning because I was curious. She just… turns out to be brilliant.”

Nanao smiled at him. “You’re so sweet, Hitsugaya. I’m sure Kurosaki is grateful to have a prospective friend,” Nanao told him. And then she frowned. “I can’t help but worry about Bazzard and Du, though. Those kids don’t know how to mind their own business. I hope they leave you and Kurosaki alone.”

That put a damper on his mood.

He replied, “I haven’t seen them since Monday. I’m not in the clear, but maybe they got arrested with drug paraphernalia or something.” Or fell in a ditch and died. He was fine with either.

“Now you’ve got me worried, Ise,” Rangiku sighed. “Don’t stay out too late, Hitsugaya. I’m sure those two cause plenty of trouble downtown after dark. I don’t want you getting into a situation you can’t get out of.” Rangiku grinned then. “In the meantime, I’ll enable your sudden rebellious phase and fetch those tickets.”

“Thank you,” Toushirou replied, sighing. His hands were clammy but his chest was so light.

“Lunchtime is almost over, Hitsugaya. Have you eaten?” Nanao asked then.

His stomach grumbled audibly before he answered, and he briskly walked out with warm ears so had time to at least stuff his face.


	3. The murder of two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's activity night, and some interesting things about Karin come into partial light.

It was cloudy that Sunday. He hoped it wouldn’t rain on his and Karin’s definitely-not-a-date, at least before they were inside. He didn’t entirely mind the greyness and the shade, it reminded him of how Karin seemed to desaturate the room.

He was also disgusted by how quickly he had become infatuated with Karin, but he would rather not dwell on that because he needed to decide what the hell to wear. Frivolous, but he wanted to look good. Momo always told him coordinated outfits were the most fun, alas it was strange to ask what Karin wore when they had only spoken for a grand total of once Friday. 

What really hurt was he didn’t have his sister for a second opinion.

He managed to settle on a pair of narrow, grey jeans he had forgotten he even had and a tank top printed with a serpent wound throughout a horned cattle skull. Downstairs, he had a pair of boots he ought to wear with them. It was a simple but harmonious look, he thought, he just hoped Karin liked it.

His grandmother was at the table when he galloped downstairs. “Hi Obaa-chan,” he said as she strode to the fridge, “is Momo not up?”

Obaa replied, “I saw her leave earlier this morning. She looked upset again. Oh, I wish she would talk to me. She knows I can never stop loving you guys. Whatever happened, I’d do anything to help….” She sighed. “Toushirou-kun, has Momo told you anything?”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.” He shook his head with pursed lips as he popped a frozen meal into the microwave. “I hope it’s just stress. Perhaps Momo’s caught up in a project. University’s a whole new workload, and she’s always been an overachiever, but it’s harder to make A’s in college.”

Obaa hummed. “Maybe you’re right. You kids are growing up so fast, I don’t have time to adjust to it.” 

His grandmother frowned then. “That still looks bad, sweetheart. What a nasty fall,” she said. He touched his fingers to the line of stitches over his lips. They must have looked like train tracks, hideous things.

“I’m a growing boy. I trip over my own feet, and staircases are unforgiving,” he told his grandmother. “It only hurts when I’m smiling,” he said. His grandmother only deepened her frown.

He sat a half minute later with his poor excuse of a meal. “I-I’m going out with a friend from school later tonight,” he announced.

His grandmother beamed. “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear, Toushirou! I’m glad you’re finally making friends at school. Tell me about them.”

“Her name is Karin Kurosaki. She recently transferred here after she was emancipated from her family. A lot of other students think she’s creepy for whatever stupid reason, but I talked to her Friday and she’s brilliant. I-I don’t know much else about her,” he explained.

“Ah, and what will you two be doing?”

“We’re just going out to watch a movie, possibly get something to eat. I should be back before ten tonight.”

“Oh, it’s fine dear. You two have fun. I’ll just be here all day, probably doing old lady things I never imagined enjoying when I was your age. Like crocheting. I hated crocheting when I was your age.”

He smiled at his grandmother. “Thanks, I hope we do.” His phone buzzed then. It was Rangiku with their tickets at the corner. “I’m going to walk to the convenience store real quick.” A convenient excuse. He didn’t like to lie to his grandmother, but he figured it oughtn’t tell the whole truth if it got him into trouble. Either way, the fridge did need to be restocked.

“Be safe, Toushirou-kun.”

“Of course.”

He was on the corner in moments. Rangiku pushed off the light post she leaned against.

“I got ‘em,” she grinned as she fished through her purse, “here kid.”

“Thanks so much. I really can't tell you how much this means to me,” he said as he slipped their tickets into his back pockets.

Rangiku laughed. “There's no need, Hitsugaya-kun. I'm happy you've finally found someone to hang out with. I've known you for most of our lives and I can only recall maybe one other person you've ever befriended. I'm not sure how you and Kurosaki have hit it off, but I'm glad.”

“She's brilliant,” he told Rangiku. “And passionate. It's infectious. I know it’s hard to believe since she’s so aloof, but I got her talking about… god, this is silly, about horror manga and she just had so much to say. I haven’t thought that she’s an idiot, I just never imagined she had so much to say. She’s unusual and fascinating.”

“I believe it. Ise has told me your guys’ literature professor is still raving about her report on MacBeth. There’s one line he really likes: ‘Ambition is not a killer, nor is vengeance. But what is done is done. Justice is hungry to equalize.’ I think that’s a pretty clever line myself.”

“It’s lyrical,” he agreed. “Thanks again for the tickets, Matsumoto. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Bye, Hitsugaya! Have fun tonight.”

It hadn’t rained that day. The clouds had blown over around four, when the sun sunk towards the horizon. His grandmother wished him safety and fun when he left and he found his heartbeat jittery with enthrallment. City lights were brighter after five. The district seemed like a carnival. The hubbub briefly made his chest ache when he realized he had missed out on so much, but it quickly cured itself when he realized he had Karin to make up for at least a fraction of lost time. So he hoped at least.

Karin was out front of the theatre. He was glad to see their aesthetics weren’t disparate. Her color scheme was similar to his. She wore a black romper and platforms tall enough that he was eye-level with her chin. She was pretty in that wardrobe, much prettier than their drab uniforms could ever do justice.

“Hi, Kurosaki. Did I make you wait long?” he asked as he stopped before her.

Karin shook her head. “I only got here five minutes ago,” she said, playfully bumping his shoulder. A modest, friendly gesture, yet it still made him blush. “I made sure to bring extra cash for snacks as well.”

“That’s great. Let’s get some popcorn and hop into the theatre then.”

There were patrons scattered throughout the small cinema. He and Karin sat in the front and she held the popcorn in her lap, taking handfuls. “I miss going to the movies with friends,” she confessed. “I used to do it all the time with my sister, but…”

But Karin was emancipated. Far away from her family. It almost broke Toushirou’s heart.

“Ah,” he said. “I-I don’t mean to pry, but why were you emancipated?”

Karin smiled wryly. “Another day. The movie’s starting any minute.”

Smooth move, asshole, he thought as he turned his attention to the ads that ran on the screen. Stupid mother fucker. What ever made him think that was a topic Karin wanted to touch? Insensitive bastard….

The movie was enjoyable, at least. Karin excitedly popped popcorn into her mouth come the gory scenes. It was so cute, he stopped paying attention to his self-loathing. He didn’t blame her. That, and the evil leads were something he found fascinating. He grew weary of the good versus evil trope. There were no heroes. Only destruction and those in its wake.

Not even Rangiku, who chased away his bullies. Not even Isane, who patched up his face. Their heroism was impermanent.

“Thanks for inviting me, Hitsugaya. This was fun,” Karin said after the movie as they stretched in the lobby.

“Someone has to show you around town,” he replied. “This is more of a hidden gem since they only show horror movies, but there’s a less judgemental atmosphere here so I like it.”

“Yeah…. Um, hey,” Karin began, “it’s not even eight o’clock yet. Do you want dessert?” she asked. “I work at a bakery so I get a discount if I get anything from there. They’re open for another forty-five minutes, if we want something before we retire for the night.”

“That actually sounds nice. Lead the way,” he replied.

“Muguruma-san is a little bit of a hardass, but so long as I leave a note and pay for what we take, he’ll forgive me,” Karin explained as she pulled her keyring from her pocket.

“Muguruma?” he asked.

“The owner of his bakery and my boss,” Karin explained. “His cakes are to die for. But’s he’s… explosive, I guess?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.

“I mean, it pays well, Muguruma lets me do my schoolwork when we don’t have much to do. II think he approves of my artistic skills since he rarely critiques my cakes.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Just got a steady hand.”

“Which one are yours?” he asked as Karin led him behind the counter. 

“None of them. I do customs,” Karin replied. “I like strawberry shortcake. Do you see anything you like?”

That he hadn’t expected. If he had to peg Karin’s taste in sweets, he would’ve gone with a fritter or a brownie. Regardless, he looked over the display. Among the cakes and pastries, he was drawn to the shortcake, as if he explored Karin’s likes he would have grown closer to her. “I’ll have what you’re having,” he answered.

They sat outside with their cake after Karin left a note and cash in the register. Karin lit a cigarette after they sat. “Hope you don’t mind. Nicotine withdrawal is a bitch.”

“Not at all,” he said, smiling. She was super pretty smoking. “Can I bum one off you?”

Karin passed him a cigarette and lit it. He immediately started crying and coughing as he inhaled. She laughed heartily. “Acrid, isn’t it?” He nodded sheepishly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Got the habit before I left home,” Karin told him. “Combination of stress and my social circle. My brother and I used to fight like cats and dogs, and I sought comfort from my friend who smoked.”

“Is… is he your ex boyfriend? I don’t mean to pry so you’re free to not answer, or something….”

“It’s fine. We banged a couple times. I wouldn’t say we were dating, though. I… I did have a boyfriend before I left, though. But I think this is what speed-dating functions feel like so let’s talk about something else.”

“Sorry, again,” he mumbled abashedly.

“I might be able to tell you another time, it just hurts. It hasn’t even been a month since I had to leave home.”

“I-I do, and you don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he told her. “Let’s just go home tonight. I don’t want to keep you up too late since you’re so busy. We can talk tomorrow.”

Karin sighed. “Alright,”

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine on my own. I always have been.”

He smiled sympathetically. He would’ve liked to tell her it was alright to rely on others, but that would have made him a hypocrite and he had already toed the line with Karin that night. He couldn’t have lived with himself if he ruined his only prospective friendship.

“Stay safe, Kurosaki. There are some real creeps out there.”

Karin smiled wryly. “You too, Hitsugaya.”


End file.
